ChronoMech (Or: Call the Crossover Police!)
by Morrigan the Nightmare Queen
Summary: Actually not my fic- this one and its two affiliated stories are the work of my sometimes-co-author, Shrapnil. I'm posting them 'cause he hasn't got a Fanfic.Net ID: 1, I'd have to copyedit his stuff, 2, he works incredibly slow. Anyway- R/R, please!
1. Divergence One: Mechwarrior

Author's note: I'm not very up on the BattleTech universe, as I only have  
MechWarrior3, so please try to point out any glaring plot errors in case I  
write another. This is set during MechWarrior3. MechWarrior belongs to  
MicroProse and a buch of other people.  
  
"Watch you tail, strike leader. Two Shadow Cats incoming, fast."  
"Gotcha, Beta 2. We're on them." Lt. Tom Katari said as he  
signaled his wingmen and swung his Bushwacker to face the oncoming 'mechs.  
"Want me to get them, boss?" Dela Harin asked as the Shadow Cats came  
charging over a nearby ridge.  
"No, there isn't that many of them. Let's BLITZ!" The last word was  
transmitted to his entire task force. His Bushwacker, Harin's Champion,and  
their friend Art Key's Orion charged, launcing all the rockets  
they could.  
The Sahadow Cats were caught flat-footed. one of them launced an Alpha  
Strike at Keys' Orion seconds seconds before the right leg of his 'mech was  
blown into shrapnel. His mech keeled over, permenantly out of order.  
The other one was cannier. Forgoing weapons, the pilot slammed on his  
jump jets. His 'mech luched violently as it lifted off, but it worked. All but  
two of the missles streaked under him.  
"He's just prolonging the inevitable...damn, those things can fly"  
Art's voice came over the comm. The Shadow Cat landed about fifty meters  
behind them, already twisting it's torso to get a clean shot. As the three  
'mechs spun to plug it, it lashed out with everything it had. Before they  
could even get a shot in edgewise, one of Tom's Bushwacker's arms was off.  
"You asked for it, bitch. EAT ROCKETS!" Harin screamed over the comm  
as her SRMs cut loose. The missles caught the Shadow Cat full in the "face".  
It didn't explode, or even fully penetrate, the armor, but it overloaded the  
'Cat's gyros, knocking it over. Before it could regain it's feet, the three  
'mechs had blown it's legs off.  
  
"Hello, Tom," Harin's voice broke into his musings as he sat  
in a restaurant. It was two months later on the frontier world of Ursa-4. The  
Smoke Jaguars had been retreating lately, so personell who had run the  
requisite number of missions could take a break, but could still be called up  
if needed. "Long time, no see."  
"Not so long," she said, sitting down next to him "about eight  
standard weeks. How long is that here?"  
"Damned if I know." Tom replied as he pushed the button on the table,  
summoning the waiter. "The days here don't seem to have any constant length."  
She leaned over and sniffed his drink. "They wouldn't seem to, no.  
What is that, anyway? Disinfectant?"  
"God only knows. It's crap, but it's the only stuff I can buy, and it  
can get you blind P.D.Q."  
She put on a mock-hurt expression and pouted. "Well, I wouldn't know.  
I only just got here, Mister Early-Requisite-Filler."  
"Howzabout Mister-Takes-Every-Volunteer-Mission-That-He-Can or  
Mister-Dosn't-Go-With-Mercenary-Companies. One of my friends did that, he  
joined Wolf's Dragoons. The plusses? Pay is good, and you can get your hands  
on the best technology that money can buy. The minuses? Pay is unreliable, and  
you have to take break where, and when, you can. Also, you have to live on the  
edge. Hot-dogging aside, your first line of defense is often you last. You  
snooze, you loose it ALL. Give me the Draconis Combine Mech Corps, even though  
we are on the edge of Smoke Jaguar territory."   
"So how is your friend?"  
"His girlfriend collected on his life insurance a year ago."  
"Oh. Sorry to hear that." She paused and pursed her lips "say, you  
don't sound very drunk. I remember that when you got smashed at that place a  
year ago, you would always s-"  
"HEY, not so loud. Luckily, they don't have a Karaoke machine here.  
Besides, this is my first one."  
Ten minutes and a drink apiece later, their talk returned to the raid  
on the Jaguars two months ago.  
"Hey, come t' think of it, where IS Art? He had more missions than I  
did when we did that, and he dosn't slack off. What happened?"  
Her expression darkened. "He was patrolling in that Firefly that he  
uses for scouting, you know the one I mean...with the..all right. His radar  
was damaged, because he and a Strider were involved in a tangle with an Owens  
that the Clanners had captured. Well, he rounded one of those mesas that are  
all over the place and found himself face-to-face with a Daishi. He never had  
a chance...but for whatever it's worth, his sudden cut-off clued the base in  
that there was something out there. They sent out three Sunders and ripped the  
damn thing apart. I heard that the Daishi pilot died of asphyxiation when his  
internal wiring burned. A slow, painful death."  
Tom had retained his composure throughout, but grinned painfully as he  
heard of the Daishi pilot's death. Then he slammed his fist down on the table,  
causing the cups to rattle. "God damn. GOD DAMN! CHRIST! Those mother...I  
don't get worked up normally, but this takes the cake. A Daishi. A FUCKING  
"GREAT DEATH" PICKING ON A FIREFLY! Of all the chickens-" He was cut off by a  
beeping from both of their mobile comms. "I swear, if this is a  
telemarketer...I got a call from this guy... do you want to know what he was  
selling?"  
"Just answer it...no don't. I got it." Dela cut in, grabbing her own  
comm. She checked it. All it displayed was the name and serial number of the  
local commanding officer and the words "REPORT TO BATTLEMECH SHED RED ALERT".  
She looked up at Tom apprehensivly.  
  
"All right, men, this is what we know. The last transmission that  
Outpost Theta-4 sent us indicated that the Smoke Jaguars had taken Xymelshia  
by a storm. They caught them completly unprepared and beat the shit out of  
them. Intercepted Jaguar transmissions say that they know that there are pilots  
on hiatus here, and they want to kill or capture as many of you as possable."  
"Sir," one of the pilots behind Tom began "what are we going to do?  
Evac?"  
"No, they have the planet surrounded. If you want to take  
your chances with a ship, you're welcome to, but the Vegas odds aren't good.  
We're going to have to do an Alamo right here. We're out of options,  
and we have 'mechs. That's all we can do, at this point. Remember, the Inner  
Sphere expects each of you to his duty. Let's MOVE!"  
  
Tom and Dela found each other in the scramble for 'mechs and  
equipment.  
"OK, who's sorry they enlisted?" Tom yelled as he climbed into a  
captured Blackhawk and ran a staus check. Primary configuration. Good, but  
nothing special.  
"Me." Dela's voice came over the comm. "I wish I had never..aw fuck,  
what good will this do now? What matters is that we're going to ...going  
to...DIE!" Her voice broke for a second, but she regained her composure  
quickly. "Oh well...at least we'll meet on the other side, if there is one."  
"Am I the only one suddenly feeling very religous?"  
  
The attack started at about 4 AM, standard time. It was kicked off by  
a wave of LRM 20's from the oncoming Vultures. These were absorbed by the  
assault 'mechs out in front. The defenders then returned a mix-n-match wave of  
firepower, blasting two of the advancing mechs into slag and damaging several  
others.  
The next half an hour was a series of devastating advances and  
retreats. The Clanners were obviously intent on destroying the base and the  
personell in them, but not at the cost of their own skins. So they kept on  
advancing and firing on the base and 'mech defenders and retreating when the  
situation heated up too much. Oddly enough, they probably lost more 'mechs  
that way than they would have if they had just rushed, as the short breaks  
gave the defenders time to repair and re-arm.   
Then the line broke. It happened when four Jaguar heavy 'mechs.  
blitzed a point in the line full of somewhat damaged 'mechs. The Inner Sphere  
pilots had seen them coming, but had let them get close so they could use  
their weapons to their best effect.  
The trap should have worked, too. All of the attackers were caught  
flat-footed and three were cut to pieces within seconds. The only one that  
even managed to get among its opponents was a Supernova, which was by that  
point badly damaged. The pilot, instead of trying to escape, drew a bead on an  
Annihilator's leg and used its Alpha Strike, causing his 'mech to live up to  
it's name. The machine exploded violently, destroying three defending 'mechs  
and knocking limbs and armor off of others. Sensing blood, the Smoke Jaguars  
charged.  
  
The next two hours was a whirling hell for all of those involved. The  
carefully-regulated lines of 'mechs dissolved into a series of one-on-one  
battles. Tom lost track of Dela in the first ten minutes of the battle, then  
he became entangled with a Puma. After that, it was simply a chain of  
opponents, killing some, wounding others, and running for his life from more.  
His most prized kill was a Supernova, which he deactivated with an Alpha  
Strike to its wounded leg.  
His rampage was largely ended by said Supernova. He knocked it's leg  
out, but it manged to pummle his cockpit into the extreme red. He didn't have  
radar, internal climate control, throttle control, or any control over his  
'mech's right arm. Backing away from the battle, he haeaded for the  
yet-untouched 'mech barn in search of a replacement. His Blackhawk was dying.  
As he rounded the burning wreckage of an Avatar, he saw two hunched shapes in  
front of him, illuminated by burning fuel: two Cauldron-Born. The body of his  
'mech shattered under a hail of SRMs.  
He could comprehend every moment of the fall. There was a screech of  
alarms and electronics, then an eeire silence as power died. The 'mech keeled  
over, flames rushing up its back and burning everything they could.  
*I'd better get out, before I get fucking incinerated. Those goddamn  
Cauldron-Born are probably looking for more damaged 'mechs to backstab, the  
chickenshits.*  
He climbed out and popped the mecifully still working emergency hatch  
in the `head'. As he scrambled out, he looked around at the burning base. The  
battle was basically over, and the Smoke Jaguars were victorious. He heard a  
humming noise about a fifty meters away. He looked to see the two Cauldron-Born  
facing him. Then his body was illuminated by the blinding red light of a TAG  
laser.  
*Good thing TAGs are low-intensity, or I'd have been scorched to a  
crisp. But I suppose that all he has to do now is squeeze the trigger. Nice  
knowing you, mom.*  
  
Inside the cockpit of one of the Cauldron-Born, Master Sergeant Menaz  
Keld watched as the Inner Sphere Balckhawk crumpled in destruction. It was an  
unsatifactory kill, really, almost not worth his time. His honor demanded that  
he destroy foes hat were truly his equal, which he had done several times in  
this battle. Then he saw his lancemate's TAG go on, illuminating the figure of  
a man.  
"Hey, Alan, what's up?" He asked over the comm.  
Alan Czeny's voice crackled back: "Gonna toast this little strabach  
with my lasers. I love it when they turn into red mist! I mean, have you ever-"  
"Hold it! Something just occured to me," Menaz cut him off "do you  
remember our orders for this raid?"  
"Vaguely. Why?"  
"OK, don't shoot while I puch them up." Menaz's fingers flew over his  
computer controls, bringing up an electronic copy of their orders. "Hah! I was  
right!"  
"Wassup?"  
"Enemy 'mech pilots are worth a bonus if you capture them. Check it  
out. Value proportional to information provided...then it's just legalese."  
"That's bull! Who says this strabach knows anything, anyway?"  
"At least he could help our intel people to dissect the inner workings  
of the 'mech computers, you know, encryption and shit."  
In the meantime, Tom had produced his sidearm and had started shooting  
at Czeny's 'mech.  
"Look," Czeny exclaimed "Now the asshole's shooting at me! I'm  
gonna..."  
"Drop the ball on that bonus."  
"This is the biggest indignity of my LIFE. Letting an enemy just shoot  
at me when I can fire back, but don't? I'm never gonna live this down. Listen,  
if this bonus thing dosn't pan out...I'm gonna meet you in a Circle of Equals.  
Then we'll see who was right." Even over the comm, Menaz could tell that Czeny  
wasn't joking.  
"All right, I hear you. OK, I've been counting. He's out of ammo."  
"Cover me. I'll get him."  
  
Tom had decided to inflict whatever damage he copuld on the Clanners  
before they killed him. Knowing full well that it was a futile gesture,  
barring a one-in-a-trillion shot, he pulled his sidearm and started firing at  
the unmoving Cauldron-Born. When he was out of ammunition, he just stood  
there. Gritting his teeth, he waited for the end to come.  
But the next sound he heard wasn't the end. It was two thumps, the  
first one being a hatch being thrown open, the second one being the pilot of  
the 'mech he had been shooting at landing on the ground.  
"All right, strabach, I know you're gun's empty, so drop it." Tom  
obeyed, for lack of any options. "Now reach into you boot...it's the left one,  
I think...and take out the knife that you have in there. Use your middle and  
index fingers. Now toss it over here." Tom did so, but threw it a lot harder  
and more accuratly than his prospective captor had been intending. The knife  
flew straight for Czeny's chest, but the Clanner twisted, causing the knife to  
stick in his armored shoulder plate. As he yanked it out, Tom was gratified to  
see that the tip had blood on it.   
Czeny's eyes crossed with rage, but he stopped himself from pulling  
the trigger. *Think bonus...think honor...think of this asshole in a torture  
chamber with some class-A interrogators...*. Out loud he said:  
"Nice one, strabach, pity it didn't work. Now that you're disarmed, you know  
the capture drill...turn around, put your hands on the wreckage of your  
'mech." As Tom did so, Czeny pulled something off his belt that someone in the  
armory issued: organic-bonding handcuffs. They were standard handcuffs, a  
high-density titanium alloy, but the best part was on the inde of the  
inch-wide wrist bands. It was a sort of slimy fungus that bonded to human skin  
and could only be removed by a certain chemical "key". If you simply killed  
the fungus, it would remain bonded to the prisoner's wrists and rot, opening  
him up to an almost guarenteed case of gangrene.  
Tom was taking orders from the homocidal Clanner because there wasn't  
anything else he could do. The he heard the sound ouf a knife being pulled.  
*The Clanners don't seem to want to kill me. I wonder...* is thoughts gave way  
tohis voice "Hey, since when is a knife in the capture drill?" "Put your  
hands behind you or find out." Czeny snarled in reply. When Tom did so, Czeny  
fastened the handcuffs on him and took his dog tags. "Lessee.. Lt. Tom  
Katari...serial number blah blah woof woof." grabbing his comm unit, he spoke  
to Menaz. "Hey, you were right. We bagged ourselves a lieutanant here. How much  
do you think that's worth?"  
"In and of itelf?" Keld replied "Nothing. But he'll probably know  
something that Intel will want to know, too. Let's sent this up to the Sear  
and see what they make of it."  
"OK, I'll take care of business here." Czeny said, and stuck his comm  
back onto his belt. Then he picked up his knife and drove it into Tom's right  
calf. Not content with that, he jammed the knife deep as he could until it  
hit something tougher than the normal tissue. He didn't know if it was bone,  
tendon, or what, but he knew that it had done it's work.  
Tom yelled himself hoarse as his mind seemed to explode with pain. He  
knew that the psychopathic Clanner had stabbed him, but that fact paled next  
to the red haze descending on his mind and the copious amounts of blood he  
could feel running out of his leg. Then Czeny gave the knife another twist,  
and Tom blacked out.  
"Hey," Czeny spun reflexivly as he heard the voice behind him, only to  
see Manaz "have you got him under control...what the fuck did you DO?" he had  
just seen Katari passed out behind Czeny in a pool of his own blood.  
"Oh, that?" Czeny was obviously unfazed by what he had just done.  
"Just making sure he couldn't run away...also restoring a bit of my pride. The  
little shit had the nerve to toss his knife at me; figured that he might try  
to pull a fast fade, so I crippled him. I don't think I any irreversable  
damage...and even if I did, what's the big deal? It's just a strabach."  
"OK, it's your honor. Although I don't know wether that was really  
smart or really dumb, given the news."  
"News? Good or bad?"  
"Bad." Menaz looked pissed. "You know that orbital defense platform  
that the Sear had to take out? Well, it compromised about 30% of the mech  
bays. Some people are going to have to stay behind."  
"WHAT? Can't the Decimation just pick up the slack?"  
"Decimation is a Gamma-class dreadnought. It has the personell  
quarters, but no 'mech bays. And if you can talk the Galaxy Commander into  
leaving funcional 'mechs behind, you may dishonor my family name."  
"So who's staying behind?"  
"People are being associated with their 'mechs, so if their 'mech is  
left behind, they're left behind. Another transport will be along in about  
three standard weeks, and those who are left behind will be picked up then.  
They've already chosen, and we lost out. The Decimation will provide  
orbital cover and all that jazz, but we're stuck on the surface for three  
sandard fucking weeks."  
"What about..." Czeny pointed at Tom.  
"You know how it works, pal. When you capture someone, you are  
honor-bound to defend your claim until you turn him over to an authority. If  
you stay (and you are) he stays."  
"Aw, FUCK! I'm stuck looking after this strabach for three WEEKS? On  
this backwater shit-hole? CHRIST! Why do I suddenly wish I had just wasted him  
so I could do something worthwhile when I got stuck here?"  
"Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20, but-"  
"YOU: shut the FUCK UP."  
  
Two standard days later, Tom had decided that homocidal tedancies  
were a qualifying factor for being a Smoke Jaguar 'mech pilot. The one who had  
stabbed him seemed to have a personal vendetta against him for being forced to  
stand there and just take being shot at by him. It didn't seem to matter that  
there was no way in hell that he could have actually damaged him or his 'mech.  
When he had awoken with his head hurting like hell and his leg orders of  
magnitude worse, Czeny (as he had heard him called) had started kicking the  
shit out of him until he had been stopped by the guy that he hung around with  
with a few words about brain damage. After that, the Czeny's friend had come  
over to him.  
"Strabach: you are in deep shit. Your allies have been routed, and our  
hold on Xymelshia ensures that no force will reach us without prior warning,  
certianly enough time for Command to scramble us a transport."  
"What the fuck are you telling me this for?" Tom yelled at him. "So  
I'm screwed, I already know that."  
"I'm doing you a favor. When you surrendured to Czeny, you sacrificed  
all personal honor, but I made him endure the indignity of having you shoot at  
him without retaliating. You've smeared him, so he's going to take it out on  
you whenever and however he can. You should know that, because your life from  
here on in is going to be hell. Just know that whatever he does, it's going to  
be a cakewalk next to what our interrogators will do if you don't cooperate.  
Kapeesh? Since Czeny basically owns you at this point, it would be judicious  
to not try to pull any fast ones. I have a class-C2 rating as an interrogator,  
and I will use it, so don't piss anyone off around here. Show me the leg."  
Tom nodded at his leg, which still had the knife embedded in it.  
Someone had applied a turniquet while he was unconcious, but that had been  
enough to slow the bleeding some. Without a word, Menaz yanked the knife out  
and applied disinfecant and a bandage. It hurt Tom like hell, but at least he  
didn't have to bleed anymore.  
Czeny came over just as Menaz was finishing. "What the hell are you  
doing?" he demanded as his friend stood up.  
"Making sure your bonus dosn't get an infection," Menaz shot back "do  
whatever you want, but don't pull a stunt like that again. You might rupture  
something important."  
As Menaz walked towards the crates of supplies and equipment that  
dropships from the Sear had delivered before departing, Czeny walked over to  
Tom's prone form, considered for a moment, and gave Tom a black eye with one  
hevily-shod foot. Then he sat down.  
"You know, strabach, those handcuffs you're wearing? Well, they have a  
fungus on the inside that's bonded them to your skin. There is absolutly no  
way to get anything in between the 'cuffs and your skin. So there's something  
you should watch out for: don't think about itches." He grinned and got up,  
knowing that Tom's mind would proceed to make him itch.  
*All right, asshole, you asked for this one* Tom thought, lashing out  
with his unhurt leg. His foot caught Czeny's ankle, causing him to crash  
facefirst into the ground. As Czeny tried to get up, Tom's foot caught him in  
the ankle again, knocking him back down.  
"Aw FUCK! YOU SHITHEAD!" Czeny yelled as he managed to climb back to  
his feet. Blood was running out of his nose and various small cuts on his  
forehead. "I'M GOING TO GET YOU FOR THIS! YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEAD! I'LL..."  
"What the fuck happened?" Menaz asked as he came over "You tripped?"  
"That fuckface tripped me." Czeny said with an ice-cold voice. "I  
think it's advisable to show him what you can do."  
"I agree."  
  
Two days later, Tom was starting to recover. *If that's what a junior  
interrogator can do,* he thought *I'd hate to have to face the real thing. I  
wonder what will happen when I do... I wonder what whappened to Dela?* He knew  
that there were three other prsoners staying behind with the Clanners, but  
Czeny and his friend made a point of keeping all the prisoners seperate.  
*What the fuck am I going to do... I can't help myself. After a certian point,  
I'll say anything to make the pain stop...*  
His musings were truncated by a soft popping noise behind him.  
--------------------------------MORE TO COME----------------------------------  
(I'm gonna write a crossover here, so I need to write a background story for  
the other characters I'm gonna use)  



	2. Divergence Two: Red Alert 2

Author's note: This is the other stage-setter I'm writing. The other is a  
rather inexpert MechWarrior fic, and I'm planning to cross the two over, so  
bear with me. Command and Conquer Red Alert 2 belongs to Westwood Studios. I'm  
just borrowing it, albeit without permission.  
  
Alexi Rosu was having the weirdest day. He was a Russian-Romanian expatriot  
who had joined the Allied forces after defecting to the West. Like a lot of  
other Allied Chrono Legionairres, he had been lent to the United States to  
help in their war against the U.S.S.R. But this battle was different. Their  
commander had told them that this would be a 'skirmish' involving several  
rogue Soviet and Allied factions, all bent on each other's destruction.  
The battle had gone fairly well until the commander had captured a  
Soviet base. Alexi had not been called into the battle, so he had hung around  
inside the barracks waiting for something to happen.  
Then something did. He had been standing by one of the geeks that the  
commander always kept handy for incoming transmissions, when the guy had  
started pounding away on his keyboard like his life depended on it.  
"What's up?" he asked as he saw blueprints flashing by on the screen.  
They looked like Soviet techs.  
"Oh, bunch of stuff." the technician replied. "The commander has  
captured a Soviet base, and a spy has just sent us some blueprints that he  
sole out of one of the rebel Frog's battle labs. Real crazy shit, like  
personal chronoshifing devices."  
Alexi hadn't though much of it until he had been told to try one on  
himself.  
"Rosu," the tech in the armory was telling him "the commander wants  
chrono personnel to try this new shit. See, it's like the chrono backpack, but  
you've got a H&K MP5-K and a whole bunch of C4. It's for surgical strikes. Oh,  
and I'll need a blood sample."  
"Blood sample?" he asked as a medic took it "what the fuck for? I've  
had my shots."  
"Don't ask me, I think it's some crazy new tech that the commander  
captured from the Soviets. And watch that backpack, it's expensive."  
  
About a minuit later, Alexi was fully outfitted. Coming out of the barracks,  
he looked around. There were Prism and Mirage tanks milling around, and a  
large building near the barracks that he didn't recognize. It was obviously of  
Soviet design, and there was anothe Chrono Commando standing near it. Just  
then, a fresh GI walked out of the barracks door behind him, just as an  
identical GI walked out of the captured Soviet building. The two looked  
similer. Remarkably similer, in fact. He looked from one to the other and  
nearly jumped out of his skin. The GIs were identical. They were either twins,  
or, given Soviet research that he had heard rumors about...clones. Then his  
eyes turned to the Chrono Commando standing near the Cloning Vats.  
He walked towards the man he knew to be his body-double, wondering  
what composed the mind of a clone. Was it a flat, souless automoton, or would  
it have a unique mind of it's own? Or would it contain a replica of his mind  
and memories? He shuddered at the thought. It would be like having the  
ultimate younger brother, someone who could spill all of your secrets without  
fear of retribution, because although he could think of them, he had not  
personally done them.  
He tapped his clone on the shoulder, bracing himself. The clone turned  
and he found himself staring at a perfect reflection of himself. Even though  
Alexi (the template) had been expecting it, he (and his clone) jumped.  
"Holy shit!" they both cried in unison. It was the same voice, same  
tones, same inflection. The clone was a mental replica as well a physical one.  
The warring commanders had decided to put the battle on hold for a  
while and had accordingly shut down their bases. Personell were heading  
around, getting some R&R. No one could tell how long the hiatus would last, it  
could be anywhere from minuits to days. Sometimes, they were never restarted,  
as the commander simply moved them off-site to fight another battle from  
square one. No one could ever figure out what he was thinking.  
  
Alexi headed for the mess hall,and after he got his chow, he sat down  
next to his clone. There were some things he needed to figure out. "Hello." He  
began. The clone returned the greeting. "Let's get a few things straight.  
First of all, you know that you ARE a clone, right, and that I'm the  
origional?"  
"Yes." the clone replied. He looked a bit haunted, "I know all that. I  
also know everything about you. I know everything you've done, so don't get  
uppity."  
"Me? Uppity? I'm the one who's actually been in all those battles.  
Sure, you can recall them, but I'm the one who actually went through the hell  
of being there."  
"HELL? YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT HELL IS?" the clone snarled back "How  
about waking up in a vat of fluid with your memories in my head, in addition  
to the data that those scientists encoded into my brain; the knowledge that I  
was a clone, a genetic grunt created to help some fucking commanders fight  
some fucking war. Even if I survive, which I doubt, I still won't have a  
normal life; I remember what you did when you saw American Beauty, you know  
that movie that won best picture in '98 or '99? Remember how that flaky broad  
who played the mother said 'the worst thing in the world is to be normal'?  
Well, she was WRONG. I'd kill to have had a standard life. But no, I'm just  
some thing that some scientists cooked up a few hours ago, pal. So don't talk  
to me about hell."  
Alexi recoiled. This guy was a melodramatic jerk. Then a thought  
struck him: he was his clone! Whatever personality traits he exhibited were  
also present in himself. This clone thing might be trickier than he had  
thught.  
His musings were interrupted by the arrival of his friend, Bart Webb.  
Bart was a bit of an asshole, but he was pretty funny to have around. He  
didn't seem to be in a joking mood, though, when he saw his friend and his  
friend's clone sitting next to each other.  
"OK, so who's the original?" Bart asked as he sat down across from  
them.  
The clone pointed to Alexi.  
"OK, you two are identical," Bart mused, staring at them both "So we  
need a way to discriminate. Howzabout this" they both looked up "we call you  
Alexi" he pointed to the origional "and we call you Alex." he finished,  
nodding at the clone.  
"OK." Alexi and Alex said at the same time.  
"Damn, this cloning stuff is prescise-" Bart began, but the alarm  
sounded. Apparently the commanders were restarting the battle.  
As everyone headed for their places, Bart pulled Alex aside "Listen, I  
heard your little speech, so I think you must be pretty fucked up right now.  
But listen, do you have Alexi's memories?" When Alex nodded, Bart went on "All  
right, you should go through them. In the memories of about three months ago,  
you'll find that he had a one-night stand with some blonde that lives about a  
hundred miles from here. Her name is Zeroleen, and she's the quinessential  
dumb blonde. She's hot as hell, and she likes..."  
"French poetry, altough just saying something in French will turn her  
on. She also likes animals, particularly cute and furry ones, and New Age  
music. Her phone number is..."  
"You've got the idea. After this battle is over, why don't you pay  
her a visit? Being a clone can have it's upsides. Don't have to bother with  
icebreakers."  
Alex nodded, cheered up for the first time in his life.   
Twenty minuits later, Alexi, Alex, as well as PVTFC Rodriguez and his  
clone were getting ready for a surgical strike at the rogue German commander.  
Rodriguez and his clone were chrono troopers, who were coming along to take out  
any vehicles that might oppose them. Their mission was to infiltrate the  
German base, kill the engineers he was building, and take out his ConYard,  
Service Depot, War Factory, and power plants. After that, they were to shift  
out and let the commander's prism and apocalypse tanks take the base apart.  
The commander was one of those neurotic types who refused to let them  
do long-range chronoshifts, so that their chronoshadows (that was the tech's  
name for the template of self that appeard at the destination) wouldn't be  
vulnerable for too long. It was a safer plan, but very annoying.  
As they reached the edge of the rogue German base, they recieved their  
last set of coordinates. They jumped, and he could feel himself traveling  
though space without ever touching the introminant points. He was in his not  
in his chronoshadow, as of yet, but would be soon.  
Then he reformed. Looking around, he saw that he and the other three  
were standing in the ore fields near the rear of the base. Two ore screws were  
standing near them, extracing all the ore they could. Then they saw trouble  
coming their way: a single Iraqi Desolator.  
The Desolator had obviously been part of an attacking force, because  
there was the wreckage of tanks and dead bodies lying all over the base, all  
in the same green that he was wearing.  
The desolator was being shot at by two fortified GIs, and he looked  
badly hurt. His radiation-proof suit didn't seem to have been compromised,  
though, so he knelt down and popped the high-radiation charging cylinder out  
of his rad-cannon. Instantly, the aera around him was illuminated in the wave  
of energy that poured out. The screams of the attacking GIs faded as their  
bodies melted into puddles of radioactive slime.  
Alex and the two Chrono Legionairres jumped out of the radiation's  
range, but Alexi was caught on the very fringe of the burst. It wasn't enough  
to kill him, but he fell back, aeras of his skin blistering. He landed outside  
the field on his back, and he heard a loud cruch behind him. He had fallen on  
his chrono backpack.  
"Oh CHRIST!" he yelled as he jumped up. His skin was hurting like  
hell, but there was no time to worry about that. Sparks were coming out of his  
backpack. His radio crackled. It was the comm officer who dispatched orders:  
"Scrub the mission! Thre's the rebel French force, coming in fast."  
He looked up just as a Prism bolt blasted the Desolator in front of him to  
pieces. The ground started to reuturn to normal, but he had no time to think  
about that. He didn't know if his backpack was working.  
"HEY! ALEX!" he yelled as the Rodriguezes chronoed out.  
"What's up?"  
"I fell on my backpack, so it might be fucked up. What do you know  
about this stuff?"  
"Not much, but I'll tie the backpacks together and see if we can shift  
back."  
"Will that work?"  
"Dunno. It should, but we don't know the exact problem. If it dosn't,  
we'll never know." As he was talking, Alex was hardwiring the backpacks  
together. "Ready?"  
"As I'll ever be." Alexi replied.   
"Right. HIT IT!" They both leaned on the shift button in unison.  
They could feel themselves twisting through the fabric of time and  
space, but the experience had never been like this before. Normally, it felt  
like you were being streched out, then snapping back together like a Stretch  
Armstrong doll. Here it felt to them like they tere in a sort of time-space  
washing machine, being pulled and twisted around by cosmic forces and  
remaining alive more through luck than mechanations of their own.  
When they finally emerged with the usual popping noise, they found  
themselves on a shattered futureistic base. It was night time, and there were  
giant mechanical walkers strwn around. There was a smell of blood in the air  
and a man lying on the ground near them.  
-------------------------------MORE TO COME----------------------------------  
(I'm writing a crossover between this and my MechWarrior fic.)  



	3. When Worlds Collide

Author's note: Here it is, the somewhat-awaited conclusion to my branching  
story. I already made the disclaimers in the previous chapters, so the hell  
with that part. Between-chapter research was (inadvertantly) provided by  
arhuaine, via her fic Blue Skye Dreams (it's good! read it.)  
  
The gound around the Alexis' was pretty plowed up. There were some  
broken walkers lying around, and several more inactive ones standing around.  
Blood scented the air, and wrecked buildings were nearby. It looked like the  
place had been bombed, which, they reminded themselves, it could well have  
been.  
"OK," Alex said as he walked over to one of the empty Jaguar Vultures  
"Whoever thinks we've shifted into The Empire Strikes Back, raise your hand."  
"Those aren't AT-STs," Alexi said as he raised his hand "AT-STs have  
no arms, fewer lasers, and all in all look quite a bit ...less...advanced...  
what the fuck have we gotten ourselves INTO? Although I suppose a better  
question would be-"  
"-where and when have we gotten ourselves into." Alex finished his  
thought as he seperated their chronobackpacks.  
"Damnit! I HATE talking to people who can replicate my thoughts!"  
Then a searchlight snapped on. "FREEZE, STRAVAGS!"  
"OK, now the question is what." Alex said as they turned to face the  
Mad Cat. It definatly had an advantage, considering that it was about 40 feet  
talle than them and armed to the teeth.  
"Fight, flight, or surrender?" Alexi said as three Elementals came  
powering towards them.  
"That depends on you." Alexi murmured "If I chronoshift, the odds are  
you'll be turned into charcoal P.D.Q. Or you could try to chronoshift unaided,  
but the odds of that working are slim to none. Or you could just let me jump  
around and pray."  
"Jump. Go for the big motherfucker. I'll see what I can do about her  
bitches."  
Alex crossed his fingers, prayed that his template wouldn't get killed  
(it would really suck to have that on his conscience if he ever met Zeroleen)   
and jumped towards the Mad Cat. To increase Alexi's odds of survival, he jumped  
to the point between him and the Mad Cat, giving the Cat a target to track  
for a split second before he chronoshifted between its legs. Jumping up on   
one of the protrusions on the Cat's leg, he climbed towards the pelvis. ("The  
better to C4 you, my dear.") Then he say the first Elemental coming  
dangerously close. "Ummm...Alexi...HELP!"  
Alexi was nowhere to be seen.  
  
*OK, pal, you want to mess with me?* Alexi had dodged onto the far  
side of the Mad Cat when Alex had first chronoshifted. Drawing a bead on the  
first Elemental, he started shooting "Eat bullets, you mother...Christ! What  
are those?" The bullets were being absorbed harmlessly by the powered armor.  
Then the Elemental fired its SRMs.  
Alexi was saved by a stroke of pure luck. As the SRMs homed in on him,  
the Mad Cat took a step backwards. Its knee rose and, almost as if had been  
planned, blocked the Elemental's projectiles.  
Deciding not to have to trust luck again, Alexi used the cover of the  
leg to get close to the Elemental. If he could keep it between himself and the  
other two, he might stand a chance until Alex did... whatever he was planning  
to do.  
  
Alex, using the diversion his template had provided, had reached the  
joint between the 'mech's leg and its pelvis. While the 'mech was  
phenomenally good at destroying most targets it's own size, it was useless  
against a single human clinging to it's legs. Reaching up, he started planting  
C4 charges in the hip joint. One of them, strategically applied, could level an  
average-sized building. After planting four of them, Alex grabbed his  
controller and chronoshifted to the ground. Behind him, a brilliant burst of  
fire and light erupted from the walker. It staggered and keeled over. Alex  
stared at it in amazement: the joint he had bombed looked badly damaged, but  
the walker was already regaining its feet.  
  
As the Mad Cat toppled, Alexi used the diversion of the flaming walker to rush  
the first Elemental. Jumping onto it's back, he tried to pin its mechanized  
arms into a full nelson.  
"Easy, James Bond" he heard the person inside the armor murmur as the  
mechanized "hands" pried his arms off as if he they were made of string. The  
Elemental then did a very effective body-slam. As he wheezed for breath, he  
heard a popping noise behind him. It was Alex, and he could feel him yanking  
off his chronobackpack as the Elemental tried to maneuver around Alexi for a  
good shot.  
"I'll be back," Alex said as he yanked of Alexi's chronobackpack "but  
I can't let them get this." Then with another pop, Alex was gone.  
  
In the captured Inner Sphere 'mech barn, Alex reappeared. Looking  
around, he saw a whole bunch of deactivated 'mechs... and no guards.  
*Figures,* he grinned to himself. *they probably thought that no one  
could get through the God-knows-how-many layers of security to get here. And  
in most cases, they'd be right. These fuckers picked up on chronoshifters, for  
chrissake. I've got to figure out how to how to get Alexi out. But in the  
meantime, I'll see what's in these machines.*  
Twenty minutes later, he had discovered two things about the walkers:  
he couldn't make head or tail of the computer system, and that they were the  
best machines to cannibalize that he had ever encountered.  
Then he heard footsteps, and looked up. It seemed to him that he had  
been wrong about the 'no guards' bit.  
  
Meanwhile, Alexi was having the screws put into him by Menaz and one  
of the other Clanners.  
"All right, stravag, I have had it with this. I do not have the correct  
drugs here, so I cannot extract any information from you that I can rely  
on. There is something odd about you, I will grant that. Your accent and  
colloquialisms are adequate testament to that. However, I do not buy the whole  
'time travel' bit at all. Yes, there was a war between the United States and  
the Soviet Union on Terra about a thousand years ago, and what of it? The  
records show no indication that either side was capable of traveling through  
time. If that had been the case, that side would have simply gone back and  
time and altered history so its enemy never rose. And yes, I know you claim it  
was an accident. But for some reason, I am not biting. I will conduct a more  
thorough examination later. In the meantime, I will leave you to your owner,  
bondsman."  
Tom was lying about a hundred meters from where the  
interrogation had been taking place. For some reason, he had noticed Menaz  
was being a lot less vicious with the new prisoner, whoever he was, the he had  
been two days before. Maybe he was temperamental as far as torture was  
concerned. Or maybe something had gone wrong, and he wasn't risking a  
fatality. Or there was something more to that 'property' comment that Menaz  
had made two days ago... "since Czeny basically owns you at this point, it  
would be judicious to not try to pull any fast ones." Maybe he was worried  
about laying into another person's property without prior approval. He knew  
that Czeny had given Menaz the OK, but this other person may not have. Then he  
saw the person in question striding across the field. "Holy shit, that guy's  
in for rough time."  
And for once, Czeny, who was sitting right next to him, didn't beat  
the shit out of him for talking. All he did was nod in agreement.  
The person in question was probably the only person on the planet  
whose life Czeny hadn't threatened at one point or another. He was an  
Elemental pilot, supposedly the finest in his sibko. He was 7'7" of solid  
power, and smarter than most other Elemental pilots. He also had a very short  
temper. If the trueblood Czeny had threatened him, he probably would have  
killed Czeny on the spot.  
  
9mm shells rattled to the floor as Alex walked out from behind a  
captured Champion, guns blazing. The guards fell to the floor, very dead, but  
the damage had been done. As soon as they didn't report, all hell would break  
loose.  
*It doesn't matter now...OK, it does," Alex thought as he chronoshifted  
out. *I managed to fix Alexi's backpack... sort of.* It turned out that he had  
his power regulator had conked out when he fell on his pack. The resulting  
surge that had happened when he had tried to shift had hurled them both into  
some random point in space and time. He had fixed the regulator, but there was  
a problem: the power cells were drained in the pack, and he needed to figure  
out some way to power the jump back. *No, FIRST thing I need to do is help him  
escape. Let's see if I can dig my template up.*  
*Easier said than done,* he though as he began his 40th jump. *I need  
some way to pick him out from all these other people. Every building has been  
leveled except the walker barn, so everyone except the guards are asleep in  
the open. In the dark, one person looks pretty much like another.* Then, as he  
reappeared, he realized that he was where he had first appeared on this  
nutcase world. There was the same person lying on the ground, the same scent  
of blood in the air.  
*Prisoner. Let's see what he knows.* walking carefully over to Tom, he  
placed one hand over his mouth and his gun to his temple. Tom's eyes snapped  
open, but he realized the implication of the gun to his head. He kept quiet  
and still.  
Pulling Tom away from the sleeping Czeny, Alex removed his hand and  
spoke in a whisper: "You alert anyone I'm here, and I ventilate your cranium.  
I'm guessing that you're a P.O.W., so I think you can fill me in on this crazy  
place without calling for help."  
"I won't call for help, you got that right." Tom whispered back "I'll  
help you if you release me...and by the way, what's a P.O.W?"  
"Prisoner Of War. All right, deal. How do you get these handcuffs  
off...they seem to be glued on... should I be worried about this?"  
"This is no time for fucking jokes!" Tom hissed as Alex snickered "You  
can get them off with the cylinder on Czeny's belt."  
"Czeny?"  
"The guy who was sleeping near me. Clanner, and a certified psycho.  
Also, watch out; he's a light sleeper."  
After Alex had gotten the handcuffs off, he and Tom headed away and  
quickly filled each other in on their respective situations. Alex had already  
guessed Tom's general circumstances, but didn't know the historical background  
of where they were. Tom didn't know anything about Alex, but he decided that  
any shot at escape was worth trying. After they had filled each other in, they  
went to rescue Alexi.  
  
The rescue went off without a hitch, except that Tom nearly panicked  
when he saw the giant Elemental pilot staring at him. Then he realized that he  
wasn't really staring, but was sleeping with his eyes open.  
"Hey," Tom said as the three of them picked their way towards the  
'mech barn, "Are you two related? If-" Then they both turned to face him at  
once. "Holy shit! You two are clones!"  
Then he looked for the light that had allowed him to see them so  
clearly; it was the reddish light of early dawn. Morning was coming.  
  
An hour later, they had reached the barn. As they neared the doors,  
they could see that the place was still crawling with guards. That route of  
escape was blocked.  
"OK, Tom, what was it that you had in mind?" Alexi asked as they  
ducked behind the wreckage of an Orion. "'cause getting into the 'mech barn is  
out. Is there any way you can substitute...whatever you were planning to do?"  
"Well, I was planning to tie your packs together and then plug them  
into a 'mech core to power the jump. It will be righting the time stream, so  
it should... oh SHIT!"  
"What?"  
"I forgot! I'm a product of this future! I can't go back with you!"  
"What? Can't you..."  
"It doesn't work like that. If I go back, I may disrupt history to the  
point where I was never born."  
"HEY!" Alex cut in "I've got another oh shit: a group of people seem  
to be coming for us. They're still far off, but the 'mech won't..."  
"That's it!" Tom and Alex yelled at the same time "use this 'mech to  
power the return trip. That is, if it's reactor hasn't been breached."  
It hadn't. After that, it was relatively easy for Tom to wire the packs  
together and onto the Orion's power leads. As he prepared to engage the  
circuit that would sent them back, Alex turned to him.  
"You don't have to do this. You could still turn us in, save  
yourself... not that I want you to, or anything."  
Tom considered for a moment. "Naah. If I get killed, it's inevitable.  
Czeny would never excuse me trying to run away. He thinks I'm his property now  
(long story) but I think he's going to find an excuse to kill me anyway.  
Turning you in wouldn't help that."  
"We'll remember this. Thanks, pal, for whatever it's worth."  
Tom nodded and engaged the circuit.  
  
Alexi and Alex instantly felt like they were being run through a  
washing machine again. They didn't know if this would work, but it was the  
only chance. After several minutes of gut-wrenching transition, they dropped  
onto the ground where they had begun. But one thing was different: still plugged  
into their backpacks was the broken Orion.  
"Hah!" Alex exclaimed as he got up "20th-century Earth! Never so glad to see it. Guess absence really does  
make the heart grow fonder."  
Then a Prism bolt shattered the barracks next to them.   
"Ruin my moment, whydontcha, God?" Alex yelled at the sky as  
the two of them, and their 'mech, chronoshifted into the safety of their  
Allied base.  
  
Tom, meanwhile, watched his allies and the 'mech he had plugged them  
into disappear in a blue burst of energy. He stood staring at the spot even as  
he heard the guards coming up behind him.  
"Hey!" he heard Czeny's voice shout "Don't touch him! I want to handle  
this stravag myself." Then he heard the now-familiar metallic sound of Czeny  
pulling his knife.  
*Right before you die, your mind is supposed to become very peaceful.  
I wish mine was.* Taking a deep breath, he turned and faced Czeny.  
  
FIN.  



	4. Facing the Music: The Czeny Slide

Author's note: once again, Mechwarrior is the property of the FASA  
corporation. I hate being indebted to anyone, but for this story I am, so here  
goes: I owe Arhuaine and her story Blue Skye Dreams (it's good. Read it!) for  
A) Inspiring me to write this sequel, B) providing me with a lot of background  
information on the Clans, and C) Giving me s bunch of plot ideas. Also, this  
is a sequel to ChronoMech. I'm writing it as a separate story because A) This  
one's completely independent and B) This is after the crossover is finished.  
This is set during MechWarrior 3. Please R&R (and point out any inaccuracies  
as far as the Battletech universe is concerned, so I can fix them in upcoming  
fics)  
  
Tom turned around to face Czeny, who had pulled his knife. Czeny was  
obviously getting ready to kill, because he was raising the knife. Before he  
could land it, though, Menaz spoke up.  
"I suppose the stravag is getting the better end of the deal. Who  
would want to live as Czeny's bondsman?"  
Czeny's knife wavered, then fell to his side as he considered  
Menaz's statement. Tom didn't know if Czeny knew how unstable people though he  
was, or how much of a jerk. Menaz seemed to be the only person he got along  
with at all; everyone else avoided pissing him off because he was as good in a  
'mech as he said he was. Then Czeny turned to Menaz.  
"I know what you are trying to do; you are trying to get me to spare  
this stravags life so your friends in intelligence can find out what they  
want, quiaff?"   
"Aff. You saw right through me. I must be slipping," Menaz didn't  
seem the distraught by Czeny's discovery of his plan, "So you will kill kim,  
quiaff?"  
"Neg," Czeny said with a furious look "I comprehend your concerns. I  
will not kill him, so as not to deny our Clan of any information."  
  
Two weeks later, Ursa-4 time, Tom was staring glumly up at the sky.  
Czeny had put the handcuffs back on him, but had refrained from stabbing him  
again. Either he was slipping, getting nicer, or hadn't been thinking.  
Judging from Czeny's attitude, Tom was inclined to think the ladder. Then he  
looked up and saw a dropship descending through the clouds. Even at that  
distance, you could clearly see the emblem of Clan Smoke Jaguar emblazoned on  
the side.  
Loading the dropship was done quickly and efficiently. The 'mech  
pilots quickly went and stowed their machines, then climbed into the personnel  
seats. Tom and the other prisoners we checked for weapons, then locked into  
their seats. As the ship lifted off, Tom looked back at Ursa-4. It looked like  
it should: urban centers razed, and the remains of an orbital defense  
platform still in high orbit. The planet was supposed to be untouchable,  
unless you could get you hands on the nearby world of Xymelshia. Which the  
Jaguars had.  
"Admiring the view, freebirth?" Czeny cut in on his thoughts. "You  
will have bigger things to worry about soon. But for whatever it is worth:  
Xymelshia is not nearly as damaged as that place is; we took it almost  
intact." He grinned and turned away.  
  
A few weeks later, they arrived on the world of Schuyler. Tom was put  
in a cell-like room, where, a few hours later, Czeny walked in.  
"All right, stravag, this is something I should have done a long time  
ago, but I did not have the proper materials. Show me your wrist."  
"Why?"  
"So I can do what I have to."  
Deciding not to irk Czeny too much, Tom made a fist with his left  
hand and held it out. Czeny reached out and quickly tied a woven chord in the  
Smoke Jaguar colors around his wrist. Tom looked at it in distaste.   
"Although you're more of summer," Tom murmured to himself in a mock  
camp voice "I think a woven bracelet would complement you perfectly ...maybe a  
...wuggghhh!" His commentary was abruptly terminated by Czeny throwing a  
punch into his sternum.  
"I heard that. Do not make fun of the bondchord. It might be the last  
thing you do. What is your name?"  
"My NAME? You've been beating the shit out of me for three weeks and  
you don't know my name?"   
"I have your dogtags," Czeny replied as he produced them "But there  
seems to be a bit of trouble with your first name. I am assuming that Tom is a  
contraction, but I am not sure-"  
"It's not."  
"Not a contraction? Your parents seem to have had strange tastes in  
nomenclature. Anyway, what is your name?"  
"What the fuck? It's right there on the...the tags there!"  
"Well, now it is not."  
"What the fuck?"  
"You are officially my bondsman. You are now Tom of Clan Smoke  
Jaguar, and do not forget it, stravag. You are not even a freebirth now,  
because even freebirths are warriors. Now follow me. Intelligence wants to  
talk to you."  
  
Tom seemed to wake up three days later. He remembered being taken  
into a small, poorly lit room and being asked some stupid questions (Name,  
rank, favorite color (He was guessing that was a control question))  
and some not-so-stupid questions (strength of the Draconis Combine,  
information about the new Inner Sphere OmniMechs, a lot of technical questions  
about Inner Sphere 'mech computers). When he had started to refuse to tell  
them what they wanted to know, they had begun to inflict pain on him. Menaz  
had been right; compared to them, Czeny was easy.  
After he had given in and told them what they wanted to know, they  
had started the quiz all over again from the beginning. They had stressed the  
technical questions most of all, obviously cross-referencing has  
answers. He didn't remember a lot of other specifics, but he did know that he  
had told them the truth, as far as he knew.   
  
Czeny reappeared two days later. He was looking nastier than usual, and  
had a booklet with him.  
"All right, stravag, we have some thing to go over. Since you are bound  
to me, Menaz decided that it would be judicious to tell you about your new  
people, Tom of Clan Smoke Jaguar. You are part of the laborer caste now, and  
unless you prove yourself to be a warrior, will remain as such. Unless the  
Ghost Bears attack and claim this world, there is no real chance that you will  
get out of our hands, so I suggest that you accept your new status."  
"You're fucking nuts-" Tom began  
"No, I am not," Czeny cut him off "and that is something you need to  
work on. Contractions are not used in the Clans of Kerensky. I suggest that you  
do not, also. In addition, we attach a non-stravag word to the end of  
rhetorical questions: quineg if the expected answer is neg, and quiaff if the  
answer is aff."  
"What're-"  
"What are."  
"What're-"  
"WHAT ARE." Czeny was starting to look abnormally dangerous.  
"OK, fine, WHAT ARE neg and aff?"  
"Neg is... neg is... neg is the reply that counters the origional  
statement. It declares that the inital statement is not, in fact the case.  
Inversely, aff confirms the intial proposition."  
"Sort of like 'no' and 'yes'. And why don't..." Czeny reached for his  
knife and Tom quickly tried to figure out how to restructure the sentance "why  
do you people not use contractions?"  
"Why do you despise us and our ways? Why do you go to great lenghts to  
spite me?"  
"Because-"  
"Because that is the way it is, that's all. That is just, at this  
point, how people work. This is the convention; oppose it at your own risk."  
"Want a second opinon?"  
"Listen. You get what I am saying, asshole bravado aside; do not use  
contractions. Now about the bondchord-"  
"This?" Tom asked, holding up his wrist with the chord on it.  
"Yes, that. It shows that you are a bondsman, and you are honor-bound  
to bear it as you should; it will only be removed if you become an abtakha, or  
are released. Even if you become bound to another clan, it will only be  
supplanted by one of their colors."  
"Ab-"  
"An abtakha is a captured warrior that has been adopted into his Clan  
as a worrior. I will be very surprised if you become one."  
"So it's...it is a very hard position to obtain?"  
Czeny looked mildly amused. "You could say that, yes. Even for a  
bloodnamed warror of another clan, it is an extreme challange. For one such as  
you, a member of the laborer caste, and a freebirth, it is basically  
unobtainable. I heard that there was one such as you who became an abtakha in  
Clan Wolf about a decade ago, but the Jaguars have much higher standards.  
Besides, there was the blood of one of the bloodlines in Clan Wolf in her. You  
have no such distinction." He flipped Tom the booklet. "Here. This is a  
pamphlet about Smoke Jaguar society that another bondsman composed about  
thirty years ago. I did not want to waste any more of my time than I could, so  
read this. You start work tomorrow."  
  
Tom had started the booklet, but had given up after about twenty  
minutes. The author had either been on crack or was having some flashbacks to  
his Inner Sphere days, because the language was a mishmash between Inner  
Sphere Standard English and Clanspeech (or whatever it was called). The author  
couldn't seem to decide between 'no' and 'neg', and kept putting stupid  
rehtorical questions in to prove his mistery of quiaff and quineg. Deciding to  
read the presumed sequil ("A guide to Smoke Jaguar society after detox.") he  
tossed the book on the floor and fell asleep.  
  
He awoke when his eardrums seemed to explode. He could hear an  
ulrtasonic tone, almost too high for the human ear to hear, but piercing  
enough to cause a lot of pain. His eyes popped open and the blurry figure of  
Czeny swam into view. "Aw, shit, you."  
Czeny considered for a moment, then looped two fingers into Tom's  
bondchord. With one deft twist, he applied enough pressure to Tom's wrist to  
make him think that it was caught in a vice. Tom yelped and jerked the chord  
out of Czeny's reach. Czeny snickered and dropped something on Tom's bunk.  
"Here are your new duds. Wear them, because they show what you are; a  
laborer of Clan Smoke Jaguar."  
"Oh, I am, am I?"  
"Trust me, you are." Czeny replied as his hand flew to a lump in his  
left sleeve. Tom quickly grabbed the Jaguar clothes, because he knew that Czeny  
had about seven inches of carbon-fiber blade hidden there.   
*Paranoiacs may never learn, but they will break down prisoners P.D.Q.*  
Twenty minutes later, Tom headed down the corridor towards the place  
Czeny had told him to go. It turned out to be the 'mech loading bay.  
There were about 150-200 Clan OmniMechs standing around, none of which  
apperared to be either damaged or armed. There were about twenty other  
laborers standing around, about half of them bondsmen. Then the shift boss, or  
whatever the person in charge of the laborers here was called, showed up.  
Tom gulped. The boss had obviously been bred for being an elemental  
pilot, because he was easily 7'3". He also knew every laborer there,  
because he started giving out sheets of printed instructions for that day's  
shift. When he reached Tom, he stopped.  
"So you are the new bondsman, huh? OK, work with Tanner there. He'll  
show you the ropes. Who are you bonded to, anyway?"  
"Czeny." The name attracted a lot of looks.  
"Huh. Alright. Now get to work, people!"  
"Hey," Tom heard a voice behind him. He spun, only to see another  
bondsman, presumably Tanner, standing there. "you are the new one. All right,  
let us see what there is to do." He consulted the paper.  
"What does this shift do, anyway?" Tom asked Tanner.  
"Battlemech outfitting. Between campaigns, battlemechs are brought  
here, stripped completly down, checked out, then reloaded. We have to do the  
reloading. Alright, first stop: captured Orion. Good one for a newbie."  
When they reached the Orion in question, Tom looked up at it. It  
didn't look nearly as impressive as it did on the battlefield, particularly  
because it was so stripped down that you could see through it in some spots.  
"All right," Tanner said, putting the sheet away "First order of  
business: the engine." Reaching into his pocket, he produced a sort of remote  
control with a small screen on it. It was actually reminiscent of the  
"cellular telephones" that Tom had seen in his history textbook when he was  
still young, only larger. Tanner punched in his PIN and waited for the  
computer to confirm. When it did, he started going through the menus, talking  
to himself "all right...select engine... Vlar 300XL... workspace..." he  
glanced at the ground. Following suit, Tom realized that the floor in the work  
area had been devided into a about seven hundred squares, each of them with a  
'mech on it and a number. Hearing a humming sound above him, he looked and saw  
a large series of large grasping claws hanging from the ceiling. One of them  
was moving. It slid along the rails on the ceiling to a high gap in the wall  
that was about five meters high and seven meters wide. There didn't seem to be  
any door into that area.  
About a minute later, the claw returned, carring a 'mech power plant.  
It carried the engine over to their aera, lowered it about ten meters, then  
stopped.  
"Here," Tanner said as he started to make it lower slowly  
"fine-tuning. I have to make the engine lower into the battlemech so it will  
sit in the chassis unaided. Then we will have to actually hook it up."  
When the engine was loaded, the two of them climbed up into the head.  
Looking around, Tom saw that the normal control panels had been replaced by  
panels that had no buttons, only a large series of sockets with labels next to  
them.  
"Testing panels. Those make sure that as soon as we get the battlemech  
outfitted, we don't run amock with it. The Jaguars are almost as practical as  
the Ghost Bears; all you can use those panels for is testing to see if the  
components are recieving power."  
"You're from Clan Ghost Bear?" Tom asked as they climbed into the  
center torso.  
"Aff. You are from the Inner Sphere, quiaff?"  
"Yes...I mean aff. How could you tell?"  
"You used a contraction just then."  
"Damn! I'll have to work on that."  
Tanner demonstrated how to connect the power leads to the  
drive motivators. "You should hook up the legs and arms. I will get the torso  
and head. So, where in the Inner Sphere are you from?"  
"The Draconis Combine," Tom said as he started feeding the leads into  
one of the motivators. It wasn't particularly hard, but it was time-consuming.  
"What Clan would that be?"  
"Damned if I know. Let's see... where are we now?"  
"Schuyler. Nova Cat and Smoke Jaguar occupation zone. I think we're  
right on the edge of the Ghost Bear occupation zone."  
"All right," Tom said as he locked the leads in "lessee... I mean let  
us see. The galaxy currently looks like a pie that was cut by someone with  
Parkinson's, so if we're... we are near the Ghost Bears, the Draconis Combine  
is the wedge on the other side of this occupation zone."  
"I think I know what you are talking about. So," he glanced at Tom's  
bondchord "who are you bonded to? I take it you were captured by the Xymelshia  
raiding party."  
"Czeny. It wasn't on-"  
He was inturrupted by Tanner's look. "Czeny. What's his bloodname?"  
"Damned if I know. Why?"  
"If he is the one I think he is, you are in for it. Does he act  
psychopathic?"  
"And how."  
"Does he carry a steel-carbon fiber knife?"  
"Hell yes."  
"You are in for it. He is supposed to be very unstable; they only keep  
him around because he's such a good battlemech pilot. He would be a ristar if  
they were not afraid of what would happen if attained any sort of command."  
"Two things: first, what's a ristar, and second, how do you know so  
much about him?"  
"A ristar is a highly gifted, up-and-coming officer. I know all of  
these things because he is one of the most notorious people around here. He  
respects no one, and the only way to control him, even for his superiors, is  
through fear. And as you probably know, he's very hard to scare."  
"Damn right. Who are you bonded to?"  
"Jeinna. She is an Elemental pilot, and tough as nails. I heard that  
she once fought off a robber by picking him up and throwing him out of a  
window. When he caught the light emplacement, she tore it out of the ceiling  
and threw it out with him."  
An hour later, they had made sure that the engine was fully engaged.  
Then they started loading weapons onto the Orion. That was easier, because the  
Orion had obviously been modified by Jaguar technicians to accept more  
weaponry than a non-OmniMech would normally be capable of. After the weaponry  
was fully emplaced (Tom noticed that the Clan weapons seemed smaller than the  
ones he had seen in the Inner Sphere), troble arose with the armor.  
"All right, we are supposed to use something called the 'Valiant  
Lamellor' series." He turned to Tom "say, you are a stravag. What is the  
'Valiant Lamellor' series, anyway?"  
"Oh, it's...it is this old-fashioned shit that they put on Orions and  
sometimes Champions. It's got a specific heat about 20% higher than that of  
standard armor, and it is about twice as expensive."  
"Ah. Only used when cost is no object. I see..." he consulted his  
remote "SHIT! We're down to two tons of the stuff."  
"So what, we'll have to order more?"  
"You want to pay for it? No, we'll have to substitute something else.  
You tell the boss while I see what there is to spare."  
"What, you want me to take the flack?"  
"No, he will not kill you... much. He (and the pilots) get extremely  
angry if you change something and do not tell them. Have you ever seen  
Elemental pilots enraged?"  
"Point."  
Walking up to the boss, he discovered, that he wasn't sure what to  
say. If this Elemental pilot character was as dangerous as he was supposed to  
be, saying the wrong thing could be fatal. "Hello?"  
The boss turned around, considered for a moment, then siezed Tom by  
his head with one hand. Lifting him up like a basketball, he looked straight  
at him. "Is this how you address a member of the warrior caste?"  
"Ummm...no, sir."  
"WHAT WAS THAT?"  
"Neg, sir!"  
"That is what I thought. What gives?"  
"There seems to be a problem with the armor, sir. The supply of  
Valiant Lamellor seems to be exhaused."  
"So substitute standard armor, you dumbass fuckface."  
"Yes..aff, sir."  
The boss dropped him, and he headed back to work, his head still  
hurting where it had been gripped.  



End file.
